Page 32 of The Plight of a Scottish Lass
Thane ripped out another weed, then used the shovel to dig a hole in the ground before sticking the roots of the small plant into it. He covered it with soil, so the leaves were visible out of the top. His belly growled at just the thought that this plant would someday be edible.
He’d had naught but a few beans to break his fast before his mother had sent him out to the garden with his brother. “Get out there before it gets too hot. The plants wither if you plant them at high sun. Brian, you water after Thane plants. And get all those weeds out or there’ll be one lash for every weed you miss.”
Brian shivered as he tugged out another weed and put it in the bucket nearby. “Help me, Thane. Do not let me miss any.” His brother whispered almost everything he ever said.
“I’ll watch, Brian.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she’d gone inside. “I’ll check when we’re finished to make sure we’ve not missed anything.”
He wouldn’t allow her to hit him ever again. She’d used the whip on them once and Thane swore it would never happen again.
“Do you think Da will ever return?” Brian whispered.
Thane said, “Nay. We’ve never met him, so he’s either dead or doesn’t want us. I think the latter.”
The door opened and his mother tossed Mora outside, the tears covering her face. “Get out there. All you do is cry. Shut your mouth. I tire of listening to you.”
“Mama, I’m hungry.”
“Blame your brothers. They ate all I had.” Then the door shut, and Mora ran over to Thane’s side.
Thane took a break long enough to wrap his arm around his sister, but then the door opened, and their mother shouted, “Get back to work, Thane.” She held a wooden board in her hand and slapped it against her thigh for effect.
Brian jumped and Mora clung to Thane, burying her face in his shoulder. He set her off to the side and whispered, “Just for a few moments. She’ll be napping soon. Let me put two more in the ground, then I’ve got a piece of oatcake for you.”
Mora wiped her tears and sat in the dirt, watching her brothers work, kneading her filthy gown in her hands.
Every night, Thane spent half the night trying to figure out how he could get them away from their mother and her cruelty. At ten winters old, he was old enough to work and take care of his siblings.
Someday soon, he’d find a way to get away from here, and he’d never return.
One of the things he hated most was how their mother always silenced Mora whenever she spoke. Sometimes it was a slap, other times it was water thrown in her face. When she was truly miserable, she would hang Mora on a peg on the wall, throwing something at her whenever she talked.
Mora learned how to be silent. Most of the time.
He vowed he would get the two siblings and himself away. Once, he’d had a plan to run away, after which he would return for them, but he had to cancel that plan because he’d never be able to stand being away from his brother and sister. He would be too worried about how they suffered in his absence.
He couldn’t do it to Brian or Mora.
If they could just get away.
But he had never imagined their life could be any worse until the day it was. Their mother woke up one morning about a yearlater and discovered that Brian had found her hidden supply of oatcakes and eaten two in the middle of the night.
Hopping mad, she grabbed a sack, threw a few clothes inside, and said, “That’s it. I’ve had enough of you whiny piglets. You’re moving out.”
Mora wailed, and Brian couldn’t stop babbling, but they were ushered down to a dock they’d never seen, forced into a boat, the sack thrown in with them, and then another man came along and started rowing.
Mora cried all the while they were in the boat, climbing onto Thane’s lap and gripping him so tight whenever the boat rocked that she drew blood from his arm. They flew across the sea until they could see nothing but water all around them. Before long, the boat landed on a beach. His mother got out, grabbed Brian by the hair, and dragged him onto the shore.
“Get out, Thane, and bring that whiny lass with you.”
“What are we supposed to do, Mama? When will you return for us?” Brian asked, though he stood far enough away to avoid her fists.
She grabbed the sack, tossed it onto the beach, and said, “Never. You are on your own. I never wish to see any of you ever again.”
The man rowing spun around to stare at her. At the last minute, he grabbed a pouch from the seat next to him and tossed it at them.
And the boat left.
The man’s last words were, “Don’t stay in the sun too long. It will burn your skin.”
